


the boy who swallowed a star

by heartsighed



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-07 09:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsighed/pseuds/heartsighed
Summary: A ninety-year-old boy, a wizard, two apprentices, and a fire. (And a scarecrow. And maybe a second wizard, too.)Or, the story of how a young hatter ages seventy years in one night and becomes the new housekeeper in the infamous Wizard Seo's moving castle.





	1. Chapter 1

The morning of the parade, Kun wakes to the sound of cannons firing in the distance, followed by a loud cheer. He lies in bed for a moment, waiting for the telltale whistle of the train chugging by before he sits up.

It takes him a while to wake up as he goes through the motions of his morning routine. He’s more tired than usual after staying up late the night before to finish the work he had originally planned to do in the afternoon.

Shuffling to his wardrobe, he halfheartedly mourns the half hour of sleep he had forgone in favor of shining his shoes before bed. Luckily, he’d gotten his best shirt cleaned and pressed a week ago, back when Sicheng had first called. He rinses his face in cold water and brushes his hands through his hair, grimacing when it doesn’t quite lay flat. After a few minutes, he gives up and jams a wide-brimmed hat over his head.

“Sicheng’s seen my hair plenty of times,” he reasons to himself in the mirror, “He doesn’t have to see it again today.”

By the time he makes it out the door, the sun is high in the sky, and the parade is in full swing. The bakery that Sicheng works at is halfway across the city, and Kun can’t help but wish that they had agreed upon a different day to meet as he eyes the throngs of people pushing down the street, confetti raining down from above them.Rather than try his luck pushing through the crowd, he ducks into a side-alley instead.

In comparison to the main roads, the alley is shadowy and deserted. He walks swiftly through the narrow streets, following a winding route that he’s taken many times since his best friend started his apprenticeship at the bakery.

He’s about halfway there when he hears the click of shoes against cobblestones, much closer than the faint cheers from the parade. The sound is quickly followed by a tall man rounding the corner just ahead of Kun, walking at a rapid, near-frantic pace.

Kun’s eyes catch briefly on the man’s absurdly bright clothes and jewelry before he notices the shadowy figures staggering out of the alleyway behind him, horrifically tall. They’re too boneless and gangly to be properly human, with ill-fitting clothes that hang off their poor imitations of torsos. As he watches, more and more of them spill out, nearly too many to squeeze into the narrow street.

The man’s eyes widen when he spots Kun, but he doesn’t slow down. Instead, he picks up his pace to a near-run, grabbing Kun as he passes by and swinging him around.

“What on earth are those?” Kun demands as the man holds him tightly by the arm, his other hand come down to rest at his waist to guide him. He tries to turn his head around to catch a glimpse of the figures, but they’re walking too quickly, and he nearly stumbles as the man jerks them around a corner.

“They belong to the Wizard of the Waste. I’m sorry to involve you in this,” the man says in a low voice, his lips brushing Kun’s ear. “Where were you headed?”

“The bakery on Fourth,” Kun answers automatically. “Did you just say the Wizard of the Waste?”

“He’s an old friend,” the man huffs a humorless laugh. “I’ll drop you off on my way.”

“I am _not_ bringing these things with me to the bakery.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll shake them off before we get there. Left here.”

The man swings them around the corner again, and he pulls Kun closer. The sound of clumsy, ill-fitting shoes clatters after them.

“I think they’re gaining on us,” Kun says.

“Yes, I realized,” the man answers, picking up the pace again.

They’re nearly running at this point, and Kun keeps tripping, but the man just pulls him up before he can fall on his face and hurries him along. The grip on his arm is just on the edge of being painful, but he’s too busy trying to keep his feet under him to really notice or register discomfort.

The man says something that is immediately buried under the sound of their shoes and the figures and Kun’s harsh breaths in his own ears.

“I’m sorry, what?” he says, too loudly.

The man leans in closer. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to fly?”

“Excuse me?” Kun cranes his head up to look at the man. He has a handsome face and windswept hair, and as Kun watches, his full lips pull into a mischievous smile.

“Hold on to me,” he murmurs, wrapping his arm tighter around Kun’s waist.

At first, Kun doesn’t notice anything different. The man’s chest is warm and solid behind his back, his breath brushing Kun’s cheek. After a moment, though, he takes a step and his shoe hits something dull, almost soft, that is definitely not cobblestone. He looks down and yelps when he sees that neither of them are touching the ground anymore, their feet seemingly hovering in midair as they slowly rise level with the rooftops, and then even higher.

The man chuckles in his ear, “Keep moving your feet.”

Kun takes a tentative step, and his foot hits something solid again, although it seems to be resting on empty air. He copies the man and tries his best to imitate a normal stride.

“Good, just like that,” the man says encouragingly. His hold on Kun’s waist finally relaxes a fraction, his other hand releasing its tight grasp on Kun’s arm to instead cup his elbow. “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Kun breathes, watching the city spread out far below them.

They’re higher than the tallest buildings, and he can see the people like tiny toys, gathered in throngs in the city square. No one seems to care to look up, too occupied with the festivities to see the two figures in the sky.

Flags and banners in every color of the rainbow flutter from where they’re strung between buildings, and tiny puffs of confetti rise here and there to the sound of cannons firing in the distance. Beyond the city, Kun can see the hills of the Wasteland rolling into the distance, fresh green fading into foggy grays, and the clear sky stretches out above them, streaked with thin clouds.

The sight is stunning, and Kun can’t help but sigh in wonder.

When they reach the bakery, the man once again tightens his arm around Kun’s waist, and they drift gently down to an empty balcony on the second flow. He waits until Kun has his footing before releasing him and stepping back, and Kun takes the opportunity to finally get a good look at his savior.

The first thing that he notices is the man’s clothes. He’s flamboyantly dressed, looking almost ridiculous in an expensive silken shirt with glittering glass baubles and gold chains hanging from his neck, but they somehow compliment his long legs and broad shoulders. His pants are cut perfectly to his figure, his shoes impeccably shined, and Kun wonders, for a moment, if this man is even real.

“I have to go,” he says, leaning against the railing, and Kun’s eyes flick back up to his face. “Be careful on your way home.”

Before Kun can open his mouth, he leans back, tipping over the edge and falling below the railing. Kun swallows a scream and rushes to peer over the railing, half-expecting to see a bloody body, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary on the street below, not even a hint of a shadow.

WIth a sigh, he lets himself slump against the wall and presses a hand to his chest, waiting for his heartbeat to settle before going inside.

 

Sicheng takes his break the moment he sees Kun stumbling into the store, looking ruffled and still slightly dazed. He swipes two rolls of bread from the display case and they sit on the empty storage crates sitting behind the bakery, sharing the bread with a jar of jam between them as Kun recounts the events of the morning.

“That,” Sicheng says when he finishes talking, “Is the most suspicious thing I’ve ever heard.” He leans back, swiping a generous load of jam onto the bread in his lap before taking a bite. “I can’t imagine anyone who has business with the Wizard of the Waste would be up to any good.”

“He was so kind though,” Kun taps his nails against the crate restlessly.

“You’re so naive,” Sicheng groans. “Imagine if it was Wizard Seo or something. You’d have had your heart eaten within seconds.”

“Wizard Seo is known for abducting beauties,” Kun laughs, waving dismissively. “No danger of anything happening to me.”

Sicheng frowns. “You always say things like that.”

“It’s true,” Kun shrugs.

“It’s not,” Sicheng protests. “Anyone would be lucky to have you!”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but you know I don’t mind. I’m comfortable where I am now, and being a hatter suits me just fine.”

Sicheng frowns. “Whatever. You should still be careful. It’s dangerous consorting with strange wizards these days.”

Kun smiles. “Yes, I know. Thank you for worrying.”

“And here I thought I would be the one getting into trouble when I moved out,” Sicheng sighs. “Just make sure nothing happens to you on your way back.”

“Yes, yes,” Kun laughs, “I’ll do my best to be my usual boring self for the rest of today.”

 

It’s late by the time Kun returns to the hattery. This time, he takes the long way around. It takes almost two hours, but he manages to push his way back home through the dwindling crowds, making it home just before nightfall. After cleaning a little, he lights a candle in the back room and settles down with a pink bonnet set to be picked up in two days.

He’s only just pinned two of the fabric flowers together when he hears the bell ring above the entrance. He frowns, trying to remember if he locked up earlier.

“We’re closed at the moment,” he calls. “You can come back tomorrow morning at nine.”

There’s no answer.

Setting down the bonnet and flowers, he walks out front and stops short at the sight of a single shadowy figure standing in the doorway, shapeless clothes dripping sadly off of its slender figure.

The door to the back room shuts with a loud bang before he can run back inside.

“It’s come to my attention that you’re friends with a colleague of mine.”

A second figure, tall and spider-thin and dressed from head to toe in black, melts out of the shadows. Unlike the slumped figure of the Wizard of the Waste’s minion, he fills out his clothes in a distinctly human way, despite his unnatural height. His voice is deep, and Kun has to squint to make out the features on his face, hidden under the brim of a large bowler hat too big for his head.

The man tilts his head slowly, and the hair on the back of Kun’s neck prickles. On an instinctual level, he can feel that this man is dangerous. He grips the fabric of his pants and straightens his back, careful not to betray the way his pulse picks up as the man saunters forward with cat-like grace.

“So, Johnny?” the man prompts, leaning against the counter. Even in this position, his head nearly touches the ceiling.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is,” Kun says calmly.

“Oh, really?” the man sounds amused.

Despite his instincts screaming at him, Kun can’t help but feel rankled at his tone. He frowns and says, “Sir, I’m going to need you to leave the store, as we’re currently closed.”

The man stares at him down the tip of his nose, and his eyes briefly come into view from deep within the shadows obscuring his face as they flash yellow. After a moment, his lips curl into a smirk.

“Not a lot of people would dare talk back to the Wizard of the Waste,” he says. “Let me rephrase: do you know where Wizard Seo is?”

Kun tries not to let the fear show on his face. From the way the wizard’s smile widens, he can tell it doesn’t work. His brain flashes back to the man from the morning, with his kind eyes and mischievous smile, and he draws himself up to his full height.

“I don’t know why you would even think a humble hatter like me would be an acquaintance of Wizard Seo. And even if I did know him, you’re the last person I would help to catch him.”

For a moment, the Wizard of the Waste stands frozen, almost as if in shock. The dim lighting in the room flickers, and Kun’s eyes dart to the lamp.

When he looks back, the Wizard of the Waste is nearly double in size, his shoulders drawing up until they block the light. His figure goes transparent at the edges, as if he’s turned into smoke, and he shrieks with anger.

The last thing Kun sees is a pair of yellow eyes flying at him. He falls unconscious before the dark figure can hit him.

 

The first thing Kun notices when he wakes up is the back pain.

It’s not unusual for him to have a sore back in the mornings, when he’s slept in a bad position, or at night, when he’s spent hours hunched over his worktable, but it’s normally never this bad.

He opens his eyes to find his cheek pressed into cold hardwood and groans as another line of fire shoots up his back. His voice comes out creaky and dry.

Wincing, he puts his palm down on the floor to push himself up, and that’s when he notices the liver spots scattered across the wrinkled skin of his hand.

“Okay, Kun, don’t panic,” he mutters, staring down at the hand for a second.

Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet and hobbles to the mirror to confirm his growing suspicions. The face that stares back at him is covered in wrinkles and much more square, the nose wider and lips thinner, but it’s undeniably his.

His hand shakes as he pulls at the loose, dry skin on his face and the figure in the mirror copies his actions.

He closes his eyes and, very quietly, swears.

 

In the end, he has no choice but to close the shop. It would just look far too suspicious if Kun was mysteriously replaced by an old man one day, and besides, all of the regulars know that his grandfather is long dead.

He writes a quick note to Sicheng with some story about how he’s spontaneously decided to go traveling across the country and sneaks out the back door before opening time. It’s fairly easy to catch a wagon going out of town, and he manages to get a ride a few miles past the city border before he’s dropped off.

From there, he figures there’s nothing to do but take a trek through the Wastelands until he finds that damned wizard or someone else who can lift the spell comes along first.

After a morning of walking, Kun finds that he has a new appreciation for his old body. It’d been a perfectly nice one—reasonably limber after only some twenty-odd years of use—and now he’s stuck with perpetually aching joints and a sore back.

When he finds he can’t keep going anymore, he sits down on a rock by the side of the road to catch his breath. He unwraps the sandwich and apple he had packed in the morning and eats slowly so as not to hurt his teeth.

The long grass of the Waste ripples in waves under the wind, and Kun shivers, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. His attention is drawn to a bush a few paces away, rustling particularly loudly.

Jutting out from the leaves is a long stick, too polished and blunt at the end to be a part of the plant. Kun is immediately hit with an image of the old men he’s seen ambling along the roads near the train tracks, leaning on their canes.

He finishes eating and ambles across the road to give it a look up close. Wrapping his hands around it, he gives a tentative pull, frowning when it doesn’t even budge.

“What a stubborn stick you are,” he mutters, pushing back his sleeves and pulling harder.

It’s a little hard when he can’t really put his back into it, but he eventually wrenches it free, and he tumbles backwards as an entire scarecrow emerges on the other end of his new walking stick. It stands still, ragged clothes and straw hat fluttering in the wind.

Kun doesn’t know what compels him to call, “Good afternoon,” but the scarecrow’s giant turnip head bobs after a moment, and it turns to look at him.

“I don’t know what I expected,” he says dryly as it hops a little towards him. He should probably be more surprised, but after the events of the previous evening, he can’t find it in himself to give a proper reaction. “I don’t suppose you know where I could find someplace to rest tonight, do you? I don’t know if my joints could handle sleeping outside.”

The head bobs again.

“You do?” Kun guesses. “Is there a chance you could point me in the right direction?”

The scarecrow leans down a little clumsily, brushing its straw hand against Kun’s arm until it catches on his sleeve. It repeats the action a few times, until Kun catches on.

“You’ll guide me there?”

More hopping.

“Oh my,” Kun smiles up at the scarecrow. “Thank you! What a polite young man!”

The scarecrow waits patiently for him to collect his things and retie his boots before they set off.

“So,” Kun says conversationally, “How did you come to be sentient?”

The scarecrow waves one arm.

“Should I be guessing the opposite question instead?” Kun says. “How did you come to be a scarecrow?”

He doesn’t really expect an answer, but he continues talking anyway.

“Was it a curse? I know a thing or two about curses, myself,” he says, huffing a little as they near the crest of a hill. “I myself have a—”

It happens so quickly, he falls over in surprise. In an instantly, his jaw snaps shut and his lips seal together. He lets out a muffled shout of surprise, wrestling with the words for a few moments before slumping and giving up. Slowly, his jaw works itself loose again.

The scarecrow is peering down at him in a vaguely concerned manner when he looks up.

He just sighs and gets back to his feet, dusting his trousers off.

 

After nearly two hours of walking, Kun spots a column of smoke in the distance, rising from behind a hill, quickly followed by a great creaking sound.

“Is that where you’re taking me?” Kun asks, squinting into the fog.

Another creaking sound echoes across the hills, and then a large shape emerges from the mist, a giant crawling beast-like thing balanced on spider-thin legs. Its body itself is a patchwork of plaster and wood and metal all precariously fused together, dotted with tiny windows. At the very tip of its head rests a sheet of shingles reminiscent of a roof, out of which protrudes a single chimney spouting some sort of steam or smoke.

Even though he’s never seen it in real life, Kun knows what it is.

“Tell me you didn’t intend for me to stay the night at Wizard Seo’s castle,” he says faintly.

Predictably, the scarecrow does not answer.

The groaning structure moves across the landscape with alarming speed, and the scarecrow begins to hop agitatedly as it nears.

“You can’t be serious!” Kun shouts over the overwhelming creaking sounds, but the scarecrow just continues to hop, bending down occasionally to pull at his sleeve.

“Oh, fine!” he finally yells as the castle is nearly upon them, the small steps leading up to the front door in its underbelly coming into view.

He pushes up his sleeves, one hand clutching tightly onto his hat, and catches the railing as it passes by, trying not to cry as the movement wrenches his arm painfully. Below him, the scarecrow makes no move to hop onto the step, instead jumping in place in the same spot he was just standing on the dirt path.

“Wait!” he shouts, “You can’t just leave me here!”

The scarecrow pays him no mind, hopping out of reach. Within seconds, it falls out of sight as the castle passes over, continuing its rapid crawl across the grass, and Kun groans, mentally bidding his new friend goodbye.

 

It takes a bit of maneuvering to get up the creaky stairs as the castle is moving. Kun hangs onto the railing when he gets to the top and considers his options. It could very well be impossible to get off the castle at this point given the pace at which it is moving, and he can’t hang onto the railing forever with his joints as they are now.

He thinks for a moment and finally takes a deep breath, giving the door a solid knock.

After a short moment, it swings open to reveal a caramel-haired boy, who peers up at him suspiciously.

“Who are you?”

Kun draws himself up to his full height, trying not to wince when it strains his back. He answers with as much confidence as he can muster, “I’m the housekeeper.”

The boy blinks rapidly, frowning. “We don’t have a housekeeper.”

“I was just hired.”

The boy’s eyes narrow.

“Mark!” he hollers without bothering to turn around. Kun winces at the volume of his voice. When he receives no response, he shouts, even louder, “MARK!”

Something clatters from behind the door, and a second, significantly more slovenly-looking boy tumbles into view.

“Yes, yes, what is it?” he says breathlessly, quickly tugging at his ill-fitting clothes when he sees Kun. “Oh, good afternoon, sir. What can we help you with?”

“He’s not a customer,” the first boy rolls his eyes, “Do you remember Johnny saying anything about a new housekeeper?”

“No, but we sure need one,” Mark snorts. “Why?”

“Johnny hasn’t said anything to me about it either,” the boy points at Kun, “he just showed up and told me that Johnny hired him. He’s lying, right?”

“Well now, let’s not be too hasty,” Mark says, hesitating. “What if Johnny just forgot to say something?” He looks back to Kun, “Would you like to wait inside until he gets back, at least?”

“You can’t just let some stranger inside our house,” the first boy hisses, jabbing Mark in the side. He looks at Kun. “Give us a moment.”

Simultaneously, they turn their backs on him.

“Johnny’s going to be so mad if he finds out that you just let some random man into the castle,” the first boy whispers. Kun wonders if he should tell them he can still hear them.

“Well, he’ll also be mad if he comes home and finds that we’ve booted out the new housekeeper before he’s even set foot inside,” Mark shoots back.

“It’s perfectly normal to be wary of strangers, especially in these times. What if he’s an evil wizard or something?”

“Do you really think he’s an evil wizard?” Mark asks dryly.

There’s a pause, and the first boy reluctantly shakes his head.

“Still,” he says petulantly, “You know what Johnny always says about letting other people into our home.”

“Yeah but he’s like, _old_ ,” Mark whispers back. Kun tries not to take offense. “I don’t want to be rude, Hyuck. Besides, he looks harmless.”

Hyuck gives Kun one more narrow-eyed glance. “Fine. But if Johnny gets mad at us, it was your idea to let him in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mark sighs and opens the door wider for Kun to step through.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello thank you for reading!! this au is kind of a side project that i started because i wanted to write grandpa kun. will do my best to get the next update up soon!!
> 
> also!! i just got a twitter/cc so come talk to me there if you want (please,, i need friends)
> 
> 10/6/18: i made a few minor edits to fix the pacing and changed the formatting


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up—i made a few changes to the first chapter!! the pacing was a little weird and i didn't like the formatting. otherwise, the content is pretty much the same, so you don't need to worry about missing anything if you read the first version.

Kun finds that Mark wasn’t exaggerating when he said they needed a housekeeper. Upon entering the foyer, the first thing his eyes land upon is an entire bookshelf’s worth of dusty books stacked haphazardly on an ambiguously puce-colored couch. In the other corner of the room, the actual bookshelf is lined with bottles of bubbling liquids and balled up articles of clothing, all clearly dirty and used.

“Is it always like this?” he says incredulously.

Mark rubs his neck sheepishly. “It gets a little messier at the end of the month, but yeah, basically.”

“This is—,” Kun struggles to find a nice way to say it, and fails, “—disgusting.”

Hyuck, or Donghyuck, as he introduces himself, snorts. “I change my mind—we can keep him.”

“It’s not like you clean all that often,” Mark says, frowning.

“I still clean more than you and Johnny combined,” Donghyuck shoots back. He shuffles around the kitchen, digging up a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese from the icebox. He waves a hand at Kun, “You can take a seat wherever you want.”

Kun takes one look at the couch and opts for a chair at the kitchen table instead.

The doorbell rings, followed by a quiet clicking sound that draws his attention to a small dial by the door. It’s circular in shape, divided into four even parts, each painted a different color. The dial had been resting on the red part, but as Kun watches, it flips to the green side. Sunlight abruptly streams in from the windows, and the faint sound of waves and squawking gulls filters into the air.

“Not it!” Donghyuck calls, cutting a thick slice of bread and tearing into it with his teeth.

“Come on, I did it last time,” Mark whines.

“Well, I just started eating,  _ Mark _ ,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes and says around a mouthful of bread. “What’re you gonna do, make our client wait until I’m done with my food? Johnny would be disappointed.”

“You’re so annoying,” Mark groans, but he’s already making his way to the door, slinging a cloak over his shoulders.

He mutters something under his breath, flipping up his hood, and Kun gasps as his face molds itself like putty and a full, white beard springs from his chin and upper lip.

“Shh,” Donghyuck whispers to Kun and holds a finger to his lips. “Don’t talk, or you’ll ruin it.”

Kun nods, craning his neck to see outside as Mark opens the door.

“Hello, young lady,” Mark says in a convincingly old voice, “How can I help you today?”

“Two packets of sleeping drought, please,” a little girl’s voice recites. There’s a jingle of coins as money is exchanged, and then Mark steps back from the door.

“Wait inside while I get your draught. Don’t touch anything,” he says, and a child follows him inside, clutching a little basket in one hand and staring curiously around the kitchen.

Kun hears a quiet clatter next to him. When he turns, Donghyuck’s food is abandoned on the plate, and the boy himself is hunched under the table.

“Can’t you turn yourself invisible or something?” he mutters, but Donghyuck just glares up at him and makes a shushing motion with his hand.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the little girl says, staring up at Kun. “Are you a wizard, too?”

“I’m not,” Kun turns back to her, trying not to smile. “Just a housekeeper.”

Her eyes widen. “Wizards need housekeepers?”

“Even wizards can be dirty,” Kun says, trying not to glance at the couch.

After a moment, the girl nods solemnly. “That makes sense.”

Mark returns with two paper parcels, just big enough to fit in her basket.

“It’s your turn next time,” he calls as he shuts the door, and Donghyuck crawls out from under the table. “I’ve already covered for you for the last four times, and you  _ know _ I hate doing transformation spells! They make my face all itchy.”

“You were the one who wanted to use a beard,” Donghyuck snipes, eating another chunk of cheese.

Mark flips back the hood of his cloak, and his face pulls itself back into its usual shape. He makes a face as the beard retreats back into his skin.

“Yeah, ‘cause otherwise, we wouldn’t actually look like each other. You’re awful at making chins.”

Donghyuck just huffs into his bread. “Shut up. Have you even eaten breakfast yet?”

“No, because I was too busy doing your job,” Mark grumbles, pulling out a chair at the table. he glances at Kun as Donghyuck takes a knife to the loaf of bread, “Shouldn’t we offer our guest some food?”

Donghyuck shrugs.

“We only have bread and cheese,” Mark says to Kun apologetically, “There’s other stuff too, but it’s all raw, and Johnny’s not back to cook for us.”

Kun raises an eyebrow. “Neither of you know how to cook?”

“I can cook just fine!” Donghyuck cuts in before Mark can open his mouth. “But we’re not allowed to use the fire when Johnny’s not here.”

Kun frowns at this. Donghyuck and Mark are younger than Sicheng, but they’re well past the age where parents normally trust their children with knives and open fires.

“Well, I can make breakfast,” he says, “I might as well get started on the cleaning now, too. No reason to sit around and wait.”

Mark accepts a slice of bread from Donghyuck and watches interestedly as Kun roots around the icebox, pulling out a side of bacon and some eggs. He unhooks a pan from the wall and sets it down on the piles of ash in the hearth.

“Wait!”

The voice comes from neither Mark nor Donghyuck, but rather from the hearth itself.

Kun quickly lifts the pan, and the ashes begin to shift as a bright blob of fire wiggles out from underneath, standing on stubby legs. It yawns with a mouth that takes up nearly its entire body, exposing a hot, white-blue fire inside its belly.

“Only Johnny can cook,” it tells Kun.

“Um,” Kun stares down at the tiny creature, and its tired-looking eyes stare back. “What are you?”

“That’s Taeil,” Mark pipes up from across the room. “He runs the castle for Johnny.”

“I’m a fire demon,” Taeil clarifies.

“Well, I suppose it’s nice to meet you,” Kun says, “I’m a little hungry right now, though, so would you be kind enough to hold still while I cook my food?”

“You might as well just give up now,” Donghyuck says, “He never lets us do it.”

Taeil considers for a moment, then shakes his head.

The doorbell rings again, and this time, the dial clicks into the blue quarter. Sunshine abruptly streams through the windows, and the faint sounds of a marketplace filter into the air.

There’s a rustling sound as Donghyuck and Mark briefly scuffle over the cloak, and then the door opens, and Donghyuck says, “Here for an appointment, sir?”

“Not even for one cup of tea?” Kun says, leaning in a little closer to the fireplace. “Please?”

“No, I hate cooking,” Taeil cranes his head up, and his eyes widen. “Ooh, is that a curse I see?”

Kun claps a hand over his own mouth before he can utter a gasp of surprise. He looks behind him, but both Mark and Donghyuck are preoccupied with a soldier standing at the door, and it seems neither of them heard.

“Please be quiet,” Kun whispers.

“It’s a complex one, isn’t it?” Taeil says curiously, ignoring him. “Would you like me to lift it?”

Kun’s eyes widen. “You can do that?”

“Of course, but I don’t want to,” Taeil says honestly. “I’ll do it if you lift the curse Johnny put on me, though.”

“You’re cursed?”

“Surely you don’t think a powerful and handsome demon like me would willingly sit around in some wizard’s hearth all day just to run his house,” Taeil says.

“Okay,” Kun says quickly, “What’s your curse and how do I lift it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“What?” Kun frowns. “What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

Taeil shrugs. “I dunno, what do you think that means?”

Kun squints at him. “Are you serious?”

Taeil shrugs again. “I dunno, am I? I’m an evil demon. You shouldn’t take my word for anything, or you’ll be tricked.”

“What does that even mean?” Kun whines quietly.

“I’m joking,” Taeil says, “Or am I?”

Outside, Donghyuck’s conversation dwindles to a close as he accepts a letter from the soldier. He shuts the door and throws the packet down on the table. As soon as he pulls out the chair, the doorbell rings again, and the dial clicks back to green. He shoves the cloak at Mark with a stormy expression.

Kun turns back to Taeil as Mark opens the door again.

“Okay, I wasn’t joking,” Taeil admits. “I’m not allowed to say what it is.”

“So how am I supposed to know how to break your curse, then?” Kun says, exasperated.

“Oh, easy,” Taeil beckons him closer with a little hand, and Kun leans in further. “You have to guess what the curse is. If you guess correctly, it will lift.”

The door closes again, this time much more quietly than before, and Mark shuffles to the kitchen table with another identical letter in his hands.

“It’s a deal,” Kun whispers quickly, “I’ll figure it out and when I break your curse, you have to break mine.”

Taeil beams up at him. “Deal.”

“Have you gotten Taeil to cook for you yet?” Donghyuck calls towards Kun, sounding bored.

“Yes, I think we’ve come to an agreement,” Kun says, smiling down at Taeil. “He says he doesn’t mind letting me cook at all.”

Taeil’s grin quickly morphs into an expression of horror. “I never agreed to anything like that!”

“Yes, well, I think it would be in our best interest to help each other out,” Kun whispers back, “Or it would be a shame if I accidentally let it slip to Wizard Seo about our deal, wouldn’t it?”

Taeil sighs, “You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?”

 

Kun’s got three eggs and some bacon sizzling in the pan when the doorbell chimes again, this time finally flipping to the black corner. The windows go pitch-dark, and Mark and Donghyuck both sit up a bit straighter in their seats.

The door opens with a bang as a tall figure strides into the room. Kun averts his eyes and stares down at the eggs, trying not to shiver at the gust of cold wind that sweeps through the room.

“Welcome back, Johnny!” Donghyuck chirrups.

“You got messages from the king while you were gone,” Mark says.

There’s a deep sigh from right behind Kun, close enough that he can feel it on the nape of his neck. “I’ll read those after we eat. Excuse me, I can finish this up.”

A warm hand lands on Kun’s waist, pushing him gently to the side before picking up the spatula. He looks up into a handsome, familiar face.

“Hello,” Johnny Seo smiles down at him, “Who are you?”

Kun swallows. “I’m the new housekeeper. Kun Qian.”

“Our new housekeeper?” Johnny hums and pushes at the eggs and bacon until a hole forms in the middle of the pan. “I see. Nice to meet you, Kun. It’s rare to see Taeil so cooperative with someone else.”

“Welcome back, Johnny,” Taeil says, peeking out from under the pan. “Good day?”

“It was alright,” Johnny allows. “Could you pass me another egg?”

It takes a moment for Kun to realize the request was addressed to him. He hands over the egg wordlessly and watches as Johnny cracks it over the hole and holds the shell to the side of the pan afterwards, dropping it into Taeil’s waiting mouth.

The fire demon crunches loudly on the shell. The flames around his body flare a little as he chews, forcing Johnny to lift the pan so that the eggs don’t burn.

“How was it today?” Johnny asks when he’s finished.

“A little on the thin side,” Taeil says thoughtfully, following up with a tiny burp, “Wonderful flavor, though.”

“Would you like a piece of bacon, too?”

“Yes, please,” Taeil nods, opening his mouth wide so Johnny can flip a piece over the side of the pan.

As he starts chewing again, Johnny plates the food. He cuts a few slices from Donghyuck’s bread too, toasting them briefly in the pan. Donghyuck and Mark carry the books on the table to the couch and move the plates to the table.

Johnny unclasps his cloak and slides into a chair, and Mark and Donghyuck take the seats to his left, leaving Kun the last seat on his other side. They pass around a pat of butter, and then Mark and Donghyuck eagerly set upon the food.

While Mark eats at a more restrained pace, Donghyuck practically inhales the bacon, even though Kun watched him down half a loaf of bread and a block of cheese not half an hour before. It’s cooked to a chewy consistency, not crunchy and burnt like how Sicheng used to make it for the two of them when he forgot and left it on the stove for too long, and the eggs are perfectly done, with crispy bottoms and soft, runny yolk on top.

“So,” Johnny says conversationally as he cuts his toast, “Where did you get that spell in your pocket, Kun?”

Mark pales and Donghyuck stops chewing abruptly, choking on a piece of egg.

Kun slowly sets down his fork and knife, fumbling around in his pocket. After a moment, his fingers meet a piece of paper. He draws it out, blinking at the unfamiliar symbols inked on it.

“He’s a tricky one, isn’t he?” Johnny grimaces, motioning for him to set it down.

The second it touches the table, the paper lights into flames. Donghyuck gasps and Mark jumps, but Johnny just watches intently as it burns away, leaving a tiny pile of ash and the symbols themselves burned into the wood.

“This is very powerful ancient magic,” he mutters, and Kun gingerly leans in to take a look over his shoulder.

“Is it the Wizard of the Waste?” Mark asks apprehensively. “What does it say?”

“‘ _ You, who swallowed a falling star, oh heartless man. Your heart shall soon belong to me _ ,’” Johnny reads. “It has to be from him.”

He reaches out, drawing his hand just over the spell without touching the varnished surface of the table. A fire lights under his palm, spreading into the lines of the symbols. When it dies away, the spell has disappeared, leaving the table’s surface unmarked again.

“It’s gone!” Mark gasps, standing and reaching out to touch the wood.

“It’s still there, but you can’t see it anymore.” Johnny corrects, wiping his hand on his pants and picking up his fork again. He explains to Kun, “It was a tracking spell. He was hoping that we would meet, and that he could follow you to me.”

“Oh no,” Kun says, feeling terrible, “Does that mean he’ll find you?”

“Not if I can help it,” Johnny says with a smile. “Taeil?”

A sigh floats over from the hearth.

“Can you shift us sixty miles to the west? And heat me some water for my bath, please,” Johnny stands, taking his plate and utensils with him.

“Fine, but only if I get some more bacon,” Taeil grumbles.

“I knew you would say that,” Johnny laughs and tilts his plate down, scraping the last piece of bacon into Taeil’s open mouth.

Something begins to rumble from under Kun’s feet, and the floor shakes as the castle begins to move faster, spurred on by whatever magic energy Taeil was feeding into it. Kun holds on to his chair, but Mark and Donghyuck look unaffected, continuing to scarf down their food without slowing down.

“It was nice meeting you today, Kun,” Johnny says, “I hope you enjoy your stay in the castle. Mark, Donghyuck, we’ll go over the assignments I left you after I’ve rested a bit.” And on that parting note, he sails up the stairs, necklaces tinkling as he goes.

 

After he finishes eating, Kun washes the dishes and takes a survey of the kitchen.

“Are you going to clean now?” Taeil asks from where he’s sprawled on a pile of ash, watching curiously.

“Well, I might as well start now,” Kun says, rolling up his sleeves, “This place isn’t going to organize itself. You don’t suppose he keeps an apron around here, do you?”

After a bit of rooting around, with a fair amount of help from Taeil in the form of shouted directions, Kun finds a faded apron that could have once been flower print, along with a mop, bucket, and duster.

He starts with the couch and bookshelf, enlisting Mark and Donghyuck after he realizes he has no idea what half the things on the shelves are actually for. They move the potions to the kitchen as he dusts the shelves and organizes the books by alphabetical order, careful not to damage some the older tomes with deteriorating spines. It takes a bit of reorganizing, but the potions are neatly stacked on the top shelf and along the window sills with minimal accidents, all of which Mark manages to safely clean up.

It takes a bit longer than usual to mop the floor, partially because the entire place is covered in a layer of grime unlike anything he’s ever seen before, and partially because he finds he has to take a break every few minutes to stretch out his sore back.

“I always thought they were just green,” Mark mutters to Donghyuck as they inspect the stone tile after he finishes.

“Johnny’s taste isn’t be that bad, is it?” Donghyuck wrinkles his nose.

“Go clear up whatever you don’t want me to touch,” Kun tells the two apprentices as he surveys his work. “I’m moving on to the upstairs area as soon as I’m done with the kitchen.” He stifles a laugh as Mark stumbles up the stairs in a hurry, Donghyuck following being him at a more languid pace.

Kun spends a while dusting and reorganizing the pantry, throwing out everything that’s gone bad. He tackles the fireplace next, ignoring Taeil’s pitiful whines as he scrubs at the outer tiles until they shine.

“Please, just leave me be,” Taeil whimpers as he eyes the mounds of ash collected in the fireplace.

“You’ll burn this entire castle down someday,” Kun points out, and Taeil whimpers again.

“I’ll die if you take me out of the fireplace,” he whines as Kun carefully scoops him into a bucket. “Kun, I’ll die!”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs momentarily distracts Kun from the wailing demon. Johnny pauses as he reaches the landing and raises an eyebrow.

“What’s going on?”

“I need to clean the fireplace,” Kun points at the ash, “This is a safety hazard right now.”

Johnny nods, snapping his fingers. With his other hand, he draws a small pine log from seemingly out of nowhere. He lowers it into the bucket carefully, and Taeil clings on immediately, sighing in relief.

“I’ll leave some fresh wood out from now on. Make sure he has some at all times, even when you’re cleaning the hearth,” Johnny says. “Taeil can’t live without something to sustain himself.”

They both look up at a clattering sound from upstairs, followed by Donghyuck stumbling down the stairs.

“Johnny, are you leaving again already?” he says anxiously, looking between him and Kun.

“Something came up,” Johnny says, looking pained. “Sorry, Hyuck. I’ll go over your lessons when I get back.”

“That’s okay,” Donghyuck says, clearly trying and failing to keep the disappointment off his face. “Should we leave them on the table?”

Johnny winces. “That would probably be good. I don’t know if you’ll still be awake by then. Tell Mark to do the same.” He slings his cape over his shoulders, giving Donghyuck’s hair a fond ruffle. “Make sure Kun doesn’t touch anything dangerous while I’m gone, alright?”

The dial above the door shifts to black as he grasps the handle, clicking back to red when it closes behind him.

Kun looks at Donghyuck, who’s still staring at the door. “You’re worried about him,” he guesses.

Donghyuck blinks, and his expression turns sullen.

“Do you know where he went?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “Only Johnny knows where the black door leads.”

Kun sighs and glances at Taeil, who’s still clinging onto his pine log in the bucket. “Have you finished tidying your room?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck nods, “Mark’s not done yet, I don’t think. Why?”

“Well, you’re going to help me with the laundry, of course,” Kun says. “Go get everything you need to wash, and ask Mark to bring down his too. I’ll join once I finish upstairs.”

After Taeil is resettled safely in his clean hearth, Kun tidies the stairs and the upstairs hallway, dodging every once in a while as Donghyuck and Mark run back and forth with their dirty clothes to fill the tub he set up downstairs.

He has to hold his nose at the stench in Johnny’s bathroom, struggling to open the window and clear away the bottle with only one hand. It takes quite a bit of scrubbing, but eventually white tile emerges from the green mold, and the porcelain bottom of the bathtub is visible again.

“This looks like a completely different bathroom,” Donghyuck says faintly as he and Mark crowd in to see Kun’s handiwork. “It smells a lot better, too.”

“Better keep the window open for another couple hours, just in case,” Kun says, shuffling them both out.

Both the apprentices’ rooms are fairly clean and organized, to Kun’s mild surprise. He just does a light dusting, avoiding their closets and drawers and whatnot, and opens the windows again to clear the musty air.

Downstairs, Mark and Donghyuck have already started on the laundry, filling the giant wash basin with water. It takes a few tries, but together, they manage magick some soap into the bin.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Kun whispers to Taeil as they watch Mark and Donghyuck bicker over whether or not the soap was turning Mark’s underpants blue, or if they were just originally that color.

“Probably not,” Taeil says mildly.

By the time Kun manages to locate the washboards, the castle’s groaning finally stops.

“We’ve arrived!” Taeil announces with a great groan. “I need a nap.”

Donghyuck jumps to his feet and rushes to the window.

“A lake!” he cheers, “Taeil, we’ve gone so far?”

“Yes, Johnny requested sixty miles,” Taeil says.

Kun peers out the window from behind Donghyuck. The lake is blue and wide, ringed in green grass and tiny wildflowers. It looks like a scene from an idyllic painting rather than real life.

“Wait, what’s that?” Donghyuck says, pointing.

Kun follows his finger to a familiar-looking stick jutting out from a balcony nearby.

“Not again,” he mutters, fumbling with the latch of the window. “Donghyuck, I’m going to need you to help me with this.”

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but the two of them manage to tug the scarecrow loose and pull him inside. His large turnip head almost gets caught on the edge of the window, but Kun manages to save it before it pops off.

Donghyuck lies down on the floor to catch his breath once the scarecrow is upright in the kitchen, looking a little worse for wear, but safely standing in one piece.

“Is it—alive?” Mark asks hesitantly.

Kun shrugs. “It’s not like he can speak and explain. I don’t even know if he has a name.”

“How about Turnip Head?” Donghyuck pipes up.

Kun turns to the scarecrow. “How about that? Do you like it?”

It stands still for a moment, and then bobs its head. Donghyuck cheers.

They watch the scarecrow hop around the kitchen for a while until Donghyuck and Kun recover enough to start scrubbing the laundry again. Afterwards, they hang it all up to dry, covering every available balcony that they can find.

“Alright, Turnip Head,” Donghyuck says once they run out of balcony space, “Time to earn your keep.”

He ties one end of a clothesline to Turnip Head’s waist and the other end to the front porch, leaving enough space on the line for the scarecrow to hop all the way out to the lake. Kun brews a kettle of tea over Taeil, who’s too sleepy to protest, and watches as Donghyuck and Mark clip up the remaining laundry on the line.

Afterwards, he takes the kettle outside and they spread a picnic blanket on the shore, just a few paces from Turnip Head. Donghyuck runs inside and returns with a basketful of biscuits for dipping and they sit quietly, drinking the tea and admiring the view.

In the evening, after they’ve eaten dinner and the apprentices have gone to bed, Kun sets up a makeshift curtain in the corner of the living room, laying a few blankets and a pillow on the now-clean couch. He’s tired from the day’s exertions, and his eyes quickly droop shut in the comfort of Taeil’s residual warmth permeating the room.

The last thing he hears before he drifts gently into sleep is a quiet click as the dial above the door shifts to black.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kun quickly settles into a morning routine in the castle. He wakes at dawn and tidies himself in Johnny’s bathroom. Sometimes, he runs into Donghyuck blearily washing his face, but more often both he and Mark are still sleeping when Kun walks upstairs. He never encounters Johnny, and the door to the master bedroom is always locked.

About a week into this new routine, he comes down to the kitchen to make breakfast, only to find that they’ve run out of eggs.

“Nothing for me this morning?” Taeil says mournfully as Kun lays down slices of ham and bread on the pan, and the sight of his sad eyes peering up from under the pan is so pitiful that Kun gives him two slices of bacon and a piece of bread.

As he cooks, he can hear the faint sound of snores rumbling from somewhere in the house. Mark and Donghyuck tumble down the stairs moments later, having smelled the food from upstairs.

“Is Johnny home?” Kun asks, and Taeil nods.

“He came home late last night, after you all went to sleep.”

Over breakfast, Mark and Donghyuck play a brutal round of rock-paper-scissors over who gets to accompany Kun to the market and who gets to stay at home and take Johnny’s clients. It takes a few ties (Kun suspects both boys are cheating a little) before Donghyuck emerges triumphant.

“You’re going to Ingary today!” Taeil calls as Donghyuck ties up his boots in an excited rush. Above the door, the dial flicks to red.

“Ingary? Why?” Kun peers out the window into the misty Wastelands.

“The castle’s close to town again today, so we’ll only have to walk for a little bit,” Donghyuck explains.

“I’m not too old for a little walk,” Kun says, fastening his cloak snugly around his neck and tugging his hat low over his head. He keeps a hand on the brim as Donghyuck opens the door and icy winds spill inside.

They spend about half an hour walking through what seems like endless hills in the Wastelands. It’s hard to see the town until it is nearly upon them, buildings rearing up from the fog out of nowhere, but Kun immediately recognizes the parade banners waving in the wind.

“We’re going to Market Chipping?” he blanches.

“You’ve been here before?” Donghyuck asks curiously.

“I used to live here,” Kun says, shivering at the temperature change as they enter the town and the mist melts abruptly into sunlight.

“What, really? Do you still have any family or friends here?”

“Yes, I do. My—,” Kun stops himself before he can say _best friend_ , “My grandson still lives there.”

“You have a grandson?” Donghyuck frowns.

“Is it that hard to believe that I would have a family?” Kun says dryly.

Donghyuck gives him a strange look. After a moment, he shrugs, “Not really, I guess. What does he do?”

“Well, actually, he started an apprenticeship at a bakery last year. The best bakery in town, if you ask me. The owner _personally_ asked him to work there after trying his bread,” Kun says proudly.

“So he’s a good cook?”

“Oh no, his cooking’s terrible,” Kun laughs. “He only knows how to bake.”

“Do you miss him?” Donghyuck asks.

“Very much,” Kun says. “Why?”

“Well, we’re running out of bread,” Donghyuck says with fake nonchalance. “Maybe we could visit the bakery. And you could see him while we’re there.”

“Donghyuck, I know for a fact we’re not running out of bread,” Kun says firmly.

“We can just stand outside,” Donghyuck wheedles, “Just across the street, or something. Won’t you be happier if you see him?”

Kun hesitates, and that’s all it takes for Donghyuck to latch onto his arm and take control. Not ten minutes later, he finds himself standing across the street from the bakery, staring up at the balcony he and Johnny had landed on weeks ago. The bell above the door jingles as someone walks out of the store.

“I can’t see inside,” Donghyuck says, sounding disappointed.

“The windows are a little small,” Kun agrees. He tugs his arm a little, hoping to spur Donghyuck into walking towards the market, but the boy doesn’t budge.

“We should go inside,” he says instead, stepping off the curb and pulling Kun with him.

The interior of the store is the same as always, give or take a few new items in the display case. To Kun’s relief, the only person in sight is a girl he’s seen maybe once or twice before, currently setting a new batch of cupcakes behind the counter. There’s a green cake that catches Donghyuck’s eye, and he lets go of Kun to get a closer look at the whipped cream filling and tiny fruit garnish.

“Oh, they’re adorable!” he exclaims. He taps Kun on the arm without looking away from the cake, “Hey, what’s your favorite thing to get here?”

“I like the chocolate croissants,” Kun says, pointing, and he can’t help but smile at Donghyuck’s infectious excitement as he coos over the golden pastries, arranged enticingly behind the glass.

“Mary, how many more cupcakes did we need again?” a familiar voice calls, and Kun freezes as Sicheng steps out from the kitchen, a smudge of flour on his cheek.

“This batch should be good for now, actually,” The girl behind the counter says. “Why don’t you take a break?”

Sicheng slumps against the counter, looking far more tired than Kun has ever seen him before. He takes off his apron, rubbing tiredly at his face, and Kun can’t help but stare as he lets out a heavy sigh.

Donghyuck taps on Kun’s arm again, looking up when he doesn’t respond. He follows his gaze to Sicheng, and lets out a soft, “Oh.”

“Is that him?” he whispers, and Kun nods.

He has bags under his eyes, much like how he used to when he stayed up late, keeping Kun company as he worked at night. He was tired then, too, but he never looked sad like he does now, his whole figure drooping as if under some invisible weight.

He freezes as Sicheng looks up and notices them for the first time.

“Oh!” he says, startling, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. What can I get you today?”

Kun can only stand there, feet rooted to the ground, as Sicheng grabs a pair of tongs and opens the display case, watching him expectantly. It feels so wrong to be on the receiving end of Sicheng’s polite customer service voice, so friendly and bland, and when Kun opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

Donghyuck looks at him nervously, and Sicheng’s expression grows more and more uncertain. Finally, when it becomes clear that Kun isn’t going to speak, Donghyuck turns to Sicheng with an apologetic smile.

“We’d like four chocolate croissants, please,” he says, and Sicheng leaves to get a bag for the order.

“I can’t do this,” Kun finally chokes out.

“What?” Donghyuck blinks at him. “Kun, are you alright?”

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Kun mutters, spinning on his heel before Donghyuck can protest.

Just before the door swings shut behind him, he can hear Sicheng say, in a concerned voice, “Is your grandfather alright?”

Ten minutes later, Donghyuck finds him sitting on one of the empty crates behind the bakery. He’s holding one paper bag with the croissants and a second one with a baguette. Cautiously, he perches on the crate in front of Kun.

“Would you like some bread?”

Kun nods, and Donghyuck tears a piece off the baguette and hands it to him. It’s still warm, with a thick crust and soft middle, and it tastes just like how it always did when Sicheng baked in the middle of the night and they sat in Kun’s tiny kitchen with just a candle and jar of jam between them. He sniffs a little as he eats.

“You should try it,” he says eventually, gesturing towards the baguette.

Donghyuck rips off his own piece, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, his eyes widen and he tears off another bigger bite.

“Good?” Kun asks.

Donghyuck nods, garbling through a mouthful of bread, “It’s really good!”

Kun smiles proudly. “He learned how to make it all by himself. Isn’t he just so smart?”

“You must really love him,” Donghyuck says.

Kun lets out a watery laugh. “You think so?”

Donghyuck nods and swallows. “Whenever you talk about him, you sound just like a grandfather bragging about his grandson.”

Kun laughs again, this time more subdued, and they sit in silence for a while until Donghyuck finishes eating.

 

When they get back, Mark is napping on the couch. Kun puts a fresh log out for Taeil as Donghyuck hangs up their cloaks. Upstairs, the pipes groan as someone starts the water in the bathroom.

“Is that Johnny?” he asks, and Taeil makes a face.

“He’s taking a bath,” the demon grumps, “He always takes so long. Wastes all my hot water.”

Kun and Donghyuck put away all the food, and then Kun cleans out Taeil’s hearth. He’s in the middle of sweeping the floor when he hears an ear-splitting scream from upstairs. Donghyuck jumps, and Mark startles awake, falling off the couch.

Not a moment later, Johnny runs down the stairs, still dripping wet, wearing only a towel around his waist. Kun swallows down a squeak as Johnny stumbles onto the landing, feet slipping a little on the floorboards.

“My hair!” he wails, gripping his head, and it takes Kun a moment to tear his eyes away from Johnny’s bare chest to see that his hair, previously a light, ashy brown, has now taken on a garish orange hue.

“Kun!” Johnny yells, running up to him. Kun fixes his line of sight above the towel slipping down his hips. “Kun, look what you did! You mixed up the potions in the bathroom and now my hair is _ruined_.”

“Wow,” Mark blurts, “I didn’t know human hair could even turn that color.”

Johnny collapses on a chair by the hearth, burying his head in his hands.

“What am I going to _do_ ,” he moans, “I’m _hideous_ . My life is ruined, and I can never be seen by people _again_.”

He leans down and begins to sob.

“Well, let’s not be hasty,” Kun says hesitantly, “It doesn’t look that bad, does it?”

He reaches out to touch it, only to flinch back when the hair starts to change color rapidly, morphing into purple, and then a deep, pitch black.

“It’s over,” he cries into his hands, “I have no more reason to live now that I look like this.”

“Is he being serious?” Kun mutters to Donghyuck, who nods.

“He always gets like this when he gets dumped,” Donghyuck says solemnly.

Wooden beams groan as the house begins to tremble and shake, the shadows growing darker around them, crawling up the walls. Wind howls in Kun’s ears, rattling the windows, and when he looks back at Johnny, his skin has taken on a distinctly gray, dull quality.

“He’s calling the spirits of darkness,” Taeil yells, “Someone make him stop before I go out!”

Mark yelps as something falls off the bookshelf behind him with a crash.

“Johnny,” Kun says, desperately trying to sound calm as the shadows start to writhe. “We can just dye it back again, alright?”

He reaches out to lay a comforting hand on Johnny’s shoulder, but when his hand meets Johnny’s skin, a gray slime begins to ooze out of him, covering his still figure in a layer of what looks and feels like mucus.

Kun yelps, stumbling back as the sludge turns green. Johnny doesn’t react to the sound of his voice, his eyes growing wide and vacant as the slime starts to slide across the floor and the house shakes even more violently.

All of a sudden, it’s all too much, and Kun can feel as his patience runs out, fear momentarily displaced by anger.

“Oh, come on,” he snaps. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Mark and Donghyuck gaping, but Johnny doesn’t move. “Do you know how shallow you sound right now, acting like the world is going to end over something like this? You think you have it so bad. Well, I’ve never been beautiful a moment in my entire life, and I’m living just fine, so you can fuck off with all of your moaning, you overgrown child!”

Mark and Donghyuck watch him with round eyes as he storms out, face still hot with anger. The front door clicks to the red quarter, and Kun steps out into a sheet of rain that quickly drenches his clothes as he continues to run out, only slowing once he’s put some distance between himself and the castle.

He doesn’t know if it’s the frustration, anger, the strangeness of that past few weeks catching up to him, or a combination of all three that finally gets to him, but he bursts into tears on the spot.

“Johnny, you dumbass!” he yells into the empty Wastelands.

The sound of his crying refuses to carry over the pouring rain. Undeterred, he shouts another curse, even louder, going on and on until his voice starts to go hoarse and he finally feels himself deflating as the cold starts to seep into his bones.

Eventually, the rain cuts off above him. He looks up to see Turnip Head holding a tattered umbrella over the both of them.

“Thank you,” he says tiredly. “You’re such a kind young man.”

Turnip Head nods politely.

“I should go back inside, shouldn’t I?”

The scarecrow doesn’t respond.

Kun turns and begins to squelch his way through the mud back to the castle.

Inside, Mark and Donghyuck are frantically scooping up the slime in buckets as Taeil perches precariously on his log, yelling as the wood threatens to be swamped. They all look up as the door clicks closed and Kun hangs up his cloak.

“Kun!” Mark cries, looking relieved, “What should we do? He won’t stop making slime, and Taeil’s about to drown.”

“Oh my,” he sighs, surveying the sight. “You really are a big baby, throwing such a big tantrum over some hair. Donghyuck, do you mind starting a bath upstairs?”

With Mark’s help, he gets Johnny onto his feet, one arm slung over Kun’s shoulders to support his limp frame as they walk up the stairs. A trial of green oozes after them, and Kun gives a silent prayer of thanks that the floor is hardwood and not carpet.

Midway up the staircase, there’s a wet _thump_ and Kun looks back to see the towel slipping down the steps behind them. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling as he drags Johnny up the remaining steps and down the hallway, into the steamy bathroom.

Inside, the tub is filled to the brim and Donghyuck is rearranging the potions by label on the shelves. He sets them down when Kun enters and they rinse as much of the muck off of Johnny’s body before pushing him into the tub. Mark comes up to help them once Taeil’s out of any immediate danger downstairs, and Kun lets the two of them finish up, leaving to mop up the slime downstairs.

 

It takes three hours and a lot of yelling, but eventually the two apprentices get Johnny out of the bath and into his bedroom. In that time, Kun changes out of his wet clothes and sits in front of Taeil with a cup of hot tea to dry off, growing comfortably sleepy in the warmth.

“Johnny wants to talk to you,” Mark says when they finally come downstairs, looking worn out.

Kun raises an eyebrow. “In his bedroom?”

Mark nods.

“Very well then,” Kun says, setting down his mug and dusting off his shirt. “I’ll go see what he needs.”

He leaves Donghyuck and Mark to help themselves to the tea and trudges up the stairs to Johnny’s ornate bedroom door, firmly closed. After a moment of hesitation, he picks up the golden handle and knocks softly.

“Come in!” Johnny calls from inside, and Kun opens the door.

The inside of the bedroom is cluttered and filled to the brim with trinkets and gadgets, just the kinds of things that Kun would expect Johnny to collect from what he has come to know of him. Some of it looks inane, like the winged glass contraptions perfectly balanced and suspended from the ceiling or the golden knife wedged into the wall above the headboard. Other things are more characteristic of what one would find in a wizard’s household, like a book of archaic spells or a blue fire that burns steadily enclosed in a sealed chamber. Nevertheless, the sheer volume of things just lying around the room is overwhelming, and Kun finds himself staring as he walks inside.

“Come have a seat, please.”

Johnny is lying in the middle of the giant bed, buried in richly-embroidered sheets. Kun sits on a chair by his bedside and watches as Johnny closes his eyes and exhales. His hair, rumpled and damp, falls in soft tufts against his forehead, and he looks so small and young without any jewelry or flashy clothes on.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “It was unfair of me to take out my anger on you.”

“What are you angry at?”

He opens his eyes and tilts his head on the pillow to look at Kun.

“Myself,” he says. “I’m angry at myself, for being afraid.”

“Alright,” Kun says slowly, pulling his chair closer to the bed. “And what are you afraid of?”

“A lot of things. The Wizard of the Waste, the king, the war. I keep running and running, like a coward, and I hate how I’m so scared all the time.”

“Why don’t we go through those one by one, then?” Kun says patiently, leaning his elbows on the bed and resting his chin on his hands. “Why does the Wizard of the Waste want to hunt you down?”

“We used to be friends,” Johnny says, “There was us, and others. We all wanted the power to protect what we loved, especially after the prince disappeared and the war started, and we were desperate enough to do whatever it took to get that power.”

“Did you get it?”

Johnny nods.

“And what happened after that?”

“He lost himself. The others became soldiers, and I have no idea what has become of them. I didn’t want to join the war, and I’m too scared of what will happen if I exert myself to the extent that he did, so now I run.” Johnny fixes him with a weak smile. “I can’t run for much longer, though. I must report to the king soon. They’re starting to see through my aliases.”

They lapse into silence for a while as Kun turns the information over in his head. The glass mechanism above them spins in lazy circles, tinkling softly.

“Hey,” Kun says, “Why don’t you just go talk to the king?”

Johnny looks at him like he’s lost it. “Did you not hear a word of what I just said?”

“No, no,” Kun waves his hands, “Listen. You have to report to him eventually, right? So just tell him you don’t want to fight. The war is pointless, and he should end it. And then you can present some good evidence and tell him to fuck off and leave you alone if he doesn’t agree to do it. What do you think?”

“That sounds really nice, actually,” Johnny admits, “But it’s highly unlikely they’d just let me walk out of there afterwards, and even I can’t take on an entire palace of soldiers.”

“Well, he’s the king,” Kun says, “You should have a right to make your complaints to him without consequence.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re still a citizen of this country, even if you’re a wizard,” Kun spreads his hands. “His duty is to protect the people, right? So if you walk in there as a citizen of Ingary and not as a soldier, he can’t do anything to you.”

Johnny stares at him for a moment, and then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Kun, I think you may be onto something.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“Absolutely not,” Johnny says, “The king doesn’t give a rat’s ass about whether or not I’m a citizen, and he’ll do whatever it takes to coerce me into joining his army. If it’s someone else, on the other hand…”

Kun swallows as Johnny fixes him with a wide smile. He has an inkling of where the conversation is going, given Johnny’s current expression.

“Oh, you can’t be serious,” he says shakily. “Me, in the palace?”

“You can tell them you’re my father,” Johnny says excitedly, grabbing Kun’s hands, “Come on, Kun, it works out perfectly! You can tell them your cowardly son is too scared to even show his face, and then give them a piece of your mind before you leave!”

He looks at Kun expectantly, his eyes shining with hope, and up close, it’s all too much. Kun wants to refuse, but the words won’t leave his mouth and he just can’t bear the idea of incurring Johnny’s disappointment.

“Alright,” he says, and the way that Johnny lights up is almost worth it. “I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! hmu on twitter or tumblr if you have any questions about this fic or just want to talk about johnkun in general!!

**Author's Note:**

> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/puerhs) | [twt](https://twitter.com/puerhs) | [tumblr](https://heartsighcd.tumblr.com)


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